Pete Hoggs-Breath #4

Pete’s head lolled forward, his vision still swimming from the remnants of the truth serum. The room felt colder now, more clinical. Grace, Jack, and Linda exchanged glances, their previously warm expressions replaced with something steely and unnerving. Grace leaned forward, her voice calm but firm.

“Pete,” she said, her tone carrying an air of finality, “we’re not who you think we are. We’re agents of the glorious KGB.”

Pete’s blood ran cold. He blinked, trying to clear his foggy mind. “W-what?” he stammered.

Jack smirked, his accent suddenly thick and unmistakable. “Surprised? You shouldn’t be. The Motherland always has eyes on important men like you.”

Linda pulled out a small tablet, tapping the screen. A moment later, Pete’s confession from earlier—raw, unfiltered, and utterly damning—played back in crisp clarity. Pete’s breath caught as he heard his own trembling voice admitting to the assault.

“We’ve recorded everything,” Grace said, her tone devoid of the warmth she’d shown at AA meetings. “This little insurance policy ensures your cooperation moving forward.”

“Cooperation?” Pete’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Da,” Jack said, leaning against the wall with a smug grin. “You will soon be Secretary of Defense. Comrade Grump is indebted to our great leader, Putin. Let’s just say there are... tapes ensuring his loyalty. Your appointment is guaranteed. Any senators who oppose will be dealt with. Conveniently.”

Pete’s stomach churned. “Why me? What do you want from me?”

Grace leaned closer, her eyes locking onto his. “Your role is simple. Maintain my cover at the AA meetings. They’re the perfect place to pass information—classified information. You’ll make it happen.”

Pete shook his head, his body trembling from withdrawal and fear. “I can’t... I won’t...”

Linda sighed, stepping forward and placing a hand on Pete’s shoulder. Her grip was firm, almost comforting. “You’re already in, Pete. And let’s be honest, you’re not in a position to refuse.”

Pete’s body convulsed with another wave of withdrawal. He groaned, clutching his stomach. “Please... I need a drink. Just one drink...”

Jack chuckled, producing a small glass filled with clear liquid. He swirled it in front of Pete’s face. “You want this? Agree to our terms. Say you’ll work with us.”

Pete’s resistance crumbled under the weight of desperation. He nodded weakly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Fine. Fine. I’ll do it. Just... give me the drink.”

Jack placed the glass to Pete’s lips, tilting it just enough for the liquid to pour into his mouth. Pete swallowed greedily, the alcohol burning his throat but bringing instant relief to his shaking body. The room tilted again as he felt the warmth spread through him.

The last thing he remembered was Grace’s voice, soft and almost maternal. “You’re making the right choice, Pete. This is just the beginning.”

Pete woke with a start, his head pounding and his mouth dry. He was in his own bed, the sunlight streaming through the curtains a cruel reminder of the day ahead. His body felt heavy, his limbs uncooperative as he tried to piece together what had happened.

Sitting up, he noticed something strange in his hand. A small USB drive, its black surface unmarked, was clutched tightly in his palm. Confused, he stumbled to his desk, fumbling to plug the drive into his laptop.

The screen flickered to life, and a video file automatically opened. Pete’s heart sank as he saw his own face staring back at him, bound to the chair, pale and shaking. The sound of his confession played again, each word a dagger to his already fragile psyche.

He sat back, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. The weight of what had just happened—what he had agreed to—crashed down on him. He was trapped, a pawn in a game he didn’t fully understand, with no way out.

And somewhere deep in his mind, a small, cruel voice whispered: You’re in this now, Pete. There’s no going back.